


It Takes Guts

by Creed Cascade (creedcascade)



Series: Blood ‘n’ Guts [2]
Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Getting Together, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24711070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creedcascade/pseuds/Creed%20Cascade
Summary: Frenchie and Butcher discuss the new recruit to The Boys. Hughie and Butcher‘s... whatever the hell it is, escalates. Butcher wishes he could find a descent curry.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Series: Blood ‘n’ Guts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784977
Comments: 7
Kudos: 302





	It Takes Guts

“The boy asleep?” Butcher asked, nodding towards the dirty couch in the safe house. Hughie’s unmoving form was in a sprawl, face turned into the grungy couch cushions. 

Hughie was wearing one of the rumpled t-shirts he insisted on going back to his place to get. It still irked Butcher that Hughie insisted on going home. There wasn’t anymore “home” for people like them. The quicker Hughie accepted that, the easier it would be on him. 

“Oui,” Frenchie answered, sitting across from the couch. “Sleep of the dead.”

“You drug ‘im?”

“Non,” Frenchie said and shook his head. “I offered, but he didn’t want it.”

“Don’t offer again. I need ‘im clear headed,” Butcher said. “Don’t need a junkie on me hands.”

“This junkie does his job,” Frenchie said with a glare.

“Yeah, real fuckin’ savant you are,” Butcher said. “Might work for you, fucknut, but that particular vice isn’t for this one, got it? He’s got other vices I don’t think he even knows ‘bout yet.”

“I bet,” Frenchie muttered. 

“What was that?”

“Nothin’,” Frenchie said quickly. “Nothin’ at all.”

Butcher sat down on the corner of the couch and lifted Hughie’s head into his lap. Hughie didn’t stir, but he did sigh softly. 

“Exhaustion. Wound too tight,” Butcher diagnosed. He began to card his fingers through Hughie’s hair.

“You should cut him loose before it’s too late,” Frenchie said. “Not fair to someone so young. He hasn’t been made yet.”

Butcher scowled. His hand moved from Hughie’s hair to rest on his neck. Butcher’s thumb was running absently behind Hughie’s ear. “Already too late.” 

Frenchie raised an eyebrow. “For you, or him?”

“Careful, mate,” Butcher warned. “You’re stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong. What was his ol’ man like?” 

“He was very American,” Frenchie answered with a disgusted snort. 

“Right septic I figured,” said Butcher and nodded in agreement. “Yank.”

“Yeah. The kind that likes to eat those microwave atrocities in their ugly, poofy chair staring at the boob tube,” Frenchie said. “Harmless enough.”

“Mindless git, then,” Butcher said. “Hughie must’ve gotten his balls from his mama’s side.”

“You shouldn’t have pushed him,” Frenchie said and waved his hand at the sleeping young man. “You pushed too hard, too fast and he pushed back. He wouldn’t have run.”

“Might’ve,” Butcher said. “Couldn’t risk it. He’d crack on his own. Might’ve bolted.”

“You would’ve tracked him down,” Frenchie said. “Found him.”

“Like I found you. Once one of The Boys, always one of The Boys.”

“Non,” Frenchie said and shook his head. “Not like me. You should let him go. It’s not too late for him.” 

“His ol’ life was done when that fuckin’ supe made his girl into roadkill jelly,” Butcher said. “‘Sides, it’s better this way.”

“How?” Frenchie asked. 

“If it wasn’t this, then he’s be eatin’ a gun before too long,” Butcher said. His fingers were still carding through Hughie’s hair again, whose breathing had evened out. “Least this way he can help take down the fuckin’ supes. He’s got useful skills. Smart.”

“This life is a death sentence.”

“Likely.” Butcher said and shrugged his shoulders. “But not if I got anything to say ‘bout it.”

“He yours then?” 

Butcher just continued to stare at Frenchie. His eyes said it all. No words were necessary. 

Frenchie snorted a sharp laugh. “All right then. He’s soft.”

“He’s tougher than he looks,” Butcher insisted, lightly patting Hughie cheek. “Lad’s got potential.”

“Lad’s yours. Poor thing. You’re bad news for him, but he might be good for you,” Frenchie said. “You still miffed about him needing to going home?”

“He didn’t need to. He wanted to.”

“Nah, he needed to,” Frenchie insisted. “It wasn’t about the duds. It was about the closure. Sayin’ goodbye to his old man.”

“I’ll jus’ hafta keep a close eye on ‘im, is all,” Butcher said. 

“Good excuse to keep ‘im close,” Frenchie said. “You like that he has spirit. Feisty.”

“Bollocks,” Butcher huffed.

“You’re usually better at lying,” Frenchie said. “So, he’s one of The Boys, then?”

“Was when he pulled the detonator.”

“True enough,” Frenchie said and stood up. He nodded his head towards the doorway. “Should I go for walk, then? A long one, oui?”

Butcher grunted an affirmative noise in answer. Frenchie knew him well enough. 

“I know you don’t wanna hear from me,” Frenchie said when he was closer to the door than Butcher. 

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“Don’t push him too far, too fast,” Frenchie repeated.

Butcher grabbed an empty beer bottle and chucked it directly at Frenchie. Frenchie dodged out of the way and the bottle smashed on the wall.

Frenchie made his exit with one last jab. “Good job waking sleeping beauty.”

Indeed Hughie began to stir and blinked slowly as the door slammed. 

“Not a word for now,” Butcher warned and placed his thumb lightly on Hughie’s bottom lip. “So, you can get up ‘n’ I’ll take that as a sign to put the brakes on this... or... or, you can stay right where you. Thing is, I gotta know you’re fully onboard, yeah? Despite me being... well, me, I’m not that level of a dick. So, you in or out, Hughie? Now, later, or not at all?”

Hughie closed his eyes and nodded minutely. 

“Hughie,” Butcher said. “C’mon ‘n’ look at me, yeah?”

Hughie opened his eyes and Butcher brushed the back of knuckles against Hughie’s cheek. “This...” Butcher started and then took a breath, struggling for the right label and failing. “...thing we got, whatever it is, doesn’t have to start now. Doesn’t have to start at all.” 

“It already started,” Hughie said. “I want it... I want-“

“Yeah,” Butcher said. “Yeah, me too. What do you want, Hughie?”

Colour rose onto Hughie’s cheeks. He drew Butcher’s thumb into his mouth and began to suck. 

“Shy?” Butcher prompted. “You want me to say say it? Might need some motivation.”

Hughie narrowed his gaze a fraction and bit down on Butcher’s thumb.

“Ow,” Butcher hissed with a half-chuckle. “Sassy. You wanna suck me off?”

Hughie nodded.

“I want to forget for a little while,” Hughie whispered. 

Butcher made an agreeing grunt. He had been there. “Go on, then,” Butcher said. 

“I want-“ Hughie struggled for the words and settled for biting Butcher’s thigh though his jeans. 

“Oh, it’s gonna be like that, then?” Butcher asked. He reached out and grabbed Hughie’s hair firmly. “I can work with that.”

With his free hand, Butcher freed his cock while keeping a firm grip on Hughie’s hair.

“Suck it,” Butcher commanded firmly. “Swallow. No spittin’.”

Hughie was eager, but showed his inexperience. He took Butcher’s cock into his mouth and sucked, taking too much, too soon. Butcher thought about Frenchie’s warning and snorted. 

Hughie stopped and made a distressed sound.

“It’s not you,” Butcher assured him. “You’re doing fine. There’s a good lad.”

This time the sound Hughie made was a low moan. Butcher filed that kernel of information away. 

“Been too fuckin’ long,” Butcher groaned. 

Hughie sucked and used his spit-slicked hand until Butcher came. Hughie did as Butcher commanded and tried to swallow. 

Butcher wiped some cum off the corner of Hughie’s lip and then gently pushed his thumb into Hughie’s mouth. Hughie sucked and traced it with his tongue. 

Butcher hoisted Hughie up, man-handling Hughie until he was sitting in Butcher’s lap. Butcher made quick work of freeing Hughie’s cock. He jerked Hughie off with one hand and kept the other firmly on the back of Hughie’s neck. Hughie jerked his hips forward driving his cock into Butcher’s grip. He came with a low moan while hiding his face in the crook of Butcher’s neck. His breathing was heavy and he shuddered. 

Butcher wiped his dirty hand on Hughie’s pants, then loosely wrapped them around Hughie’s waist. Butcher wasn’t sure how long they were like that, but long enough that Frenchie came back. Hughie tried to move away, but Butcher held him tight. 

“Nothin’ ta hide,” Butcher growler. “Stay put.” 

Hughie buried his face against Butcher’s neck and pressed even closer. His hands moved quickly tucking their cocks back into their pants. 

“What happened to a long walk?” Butcher snapped at the Frenchman. 

“That was a long walk,” Frenchie said. “There’s a bed here. A bed in a room with a door. A door that closes-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Butcher cut him off. “Fuck off now.”

Frenchie looked at Hughie and Butcher was pretty sure he was checking to see if the young man was okay. Whatever the Frenchman saw seemed to satisfy him enough for now. In this lifestyle it was understood that you took what pleasure out of life where ever and when ever you could. That being understood, Butcher could also tell that Frenchie was giving him an unsaid warning about taking care of their new recruit. 

“He gone?” Hughie mumbled against his skin after a few minutes. 

“Yeah,” Butcher confirmed. “All clear.”

“Butcher, wha-“

“None of that,” Butcher cut him off. “It is what it is. Now’s the time for pizza, mate.”

Hughie shifted back enough to glance at Butcher with an arched eyebrow. “Pizza?”

“Wish I could find a descent curry ‘round here, but no dice. I like a good nosh after I get laid,” Butcher said and patted Hughie’s ass, then planted a noisy kiss on Hughie’s cheek. “Up.”

“I’m not-“

“What kinda ‘za do you want?” Butcher pushed Hughie off his lap. 

“But-“

“If you say pineapple, get the fuck out now,” Butcher said. 

“I like pepperoni,” Hughie said somewhat hesitantly. He was starting to catch on that there would be talking about this. 

Butcher made a tsking sound, picking at Hughie’s shirt. “Real shame. Looks like you got your shirt all dirty,” Butcher said with a smirk. “Guess you’ll jus’ hafta change into my shirt after all.”

END.


End file.
